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My body goes cold as Ryan releases me.
He isn’t mine.
He isn’t going to be mine.
I have to get used to that.
Chapter 11
Leighton
Kurt Cobain mumbles over heavy guitars as Ryan turns onto a cozy Beverly Hills street. We park under the shade of a lush tree. It’s as green as anything gets around here.
He turns off the car, ending Kurt Cobain’s wail.
“Better.” He presses his back into his seat. Fidgets with the keys in his right hand.
“Who doesn’t like Nirvana?”
“It’s fine.”
“Fine?”
“Doesn’t do it for me.”
“Playlist on the way back. Trust me. You’ll feel positively normal compared to how fucked-up some of these guys are.”
“Just guys?”
“And girls. But when it’s a guy… I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m a girl, but women tend to have more of an I’m better off without you attitude. Whereas guys can be very—”
“I hope you die in a car crash?”
“I’ve got one like that.”
“Did a lyric tattoo the other day.”
“Someone wanted that on their body forever?”
He nods.
“And you say you’re hopeless.”
His laugh is more sad than anything.
My stomach twists. My fingers slide over the center console. I want to touch him. To stop him from closing off.
But there’s something about his expression. Like he’s screaming leave me alone.
I unclick my seatbelt. Slide my purse onto my shoulder. “You ready?”
“No.” He undoes his seatbelt. “But I’m not gonna be.”
“We don’t have to—”
“I do.”
“Okay.” I reach for the door, step onto the pavement, smooth my dress.
